


Shudder

by tuba



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Universe, M/M, Reunion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:39:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12368841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuba/pseuds/tuba
Summary: Reyes meets a ghost.It must be a ghost because that person is long dead. Dead and buried and gone, gone, gone. He can’t be here.Or, Gabriel's bad choices catch up to him.





	Shudder

**Author's Note:**

> contains some semi-graphic descriptions of injury/blood, but nothing too gory. 
> 
> for some clarification:  
> this first chapter is written from gabe's pov (still 3rd person tho!). gabriel is referred to as just "the man" for most of the first chapter. jack is referred to as "the ghost". This is changing in later chapters.

 

The man enters the compound through a back door. He inserts a key card but the display is gray and lifeless.  _Of course._

 

He kicks the glass pane and climbs in through the opening.  _Inelegant, but it works._ He starts walking. His boots  _clank_ and leave footprints in the dust, but that can’t be helped. 

The man pauses at one room. The door creaks open, and he’s met with an empty bunker bed and a small desk with a gold-framed photo on it. He pockets the photo and leaves the frame there. He steps out of the room—and stops dead. 

He’s seeing a ghost. It must be a ghost because that person is long dead. Dead and buried and gone, gone, gone. He can’t be here. It can’t be  _him_ . 

The man  draws a gun. 

It comes to a dead stop. An invisible arrow  forms in his mind's eye and extends from the muzzle and spears through the ghost's heart. The man can see it: the perfect flesh bursting and blood fountaining up, up, up.. …

His finger twitches--just one centimeter, and it'll  all  be over-- _come on_ _come on_ _what are you afraid of_ ?

His skin crawls. Doubt creeps into his heart and finds an icy clawhold there.

_What will happen?_

Blood slick on his hands--no pulse, blue eyes glazed over,  _no_ _—please no--_

The muzzle lowers, ever so slightly. His hand is steady. 

No going back. No return. A cold bead of sweat makes its way down the nape of his neck. 

_Crack!_

The bullet embeds itself in the wall. 

The man's grip slackens. The gun clatters, spins, comes to a stop. 

The ghost turns and runs, heavy footsteps fading into the distance. 

The man stands there for a long while. When he walks out of the compound, his footsteps are stiff and measured; his shoulders are squared, and his back is straight. 

 

* * *

 

 

Two months later sees the man facing off again against the ghost. This time, there are others  fighting  at the ghost's side. The man knows there are more hidden, waiting to strike. 

They make the first move. He's quick on his feet, but he's nearly overwhelmed. Knives and bullets fly; a dart whistles by his ear, too close for comfort. He ducks and rolls behind a crate. There's a small _cl_ _i_ _nk,_ and something silver rolls toward him. He sprints in the opposite direction. 

_Boom!_

The blast knocks him to his feet. He gets up, groaning. 

_Focus._

A round glances off his ribs. His body armor takes most of the damage, but he's left doubled over and gasping for breath. 

_Steady._

He can't hold out much longer, he knows that. Left, front, back, he's surrounded. An exit sign to his right flickers weakly.  

He abandons stealth and dashes toward the double doors. Someone fires at him; he keeps running. 

Almost there--

A shot grazes his cheek. He ignores it. The doors open and he's running down the hall and the sounds of fighting are fading--

There's an all-too-loud  _click._ He recognizes the sound, but for a wild moment, he thinks he can outrun it. 

_Blam!_

The man keeps running. He can't stop here--he can almost taste freedom--

It's only then that he notices a dark stain spreading on his side, It takes a moment to register that it's blood, and another to realize  _I've been shot._

Pain explodes in his side, then all over his body. He can't tell if he's been shot again; he doesn't even know where it's coming from. Somebody is s houting , distantly. Someone kneels over him, saying something--

Then nothing.  

 

* * *

 

 

The man wakes up to bright fluorescent lights and scratchy linen blankets. His head is throbbing, and pain lances through his side. He tries to sit up, but his arms give out from the effort. He squeezes his eyes shut and exhales through his teeth.

Just then, a door clicks open. 

“Gabe?”

The man narrows his eyes. “You’re dead.” 

The ghost is stern but calm. “I thought you were too, but here we both are.” 

“ _No._ You’re  _dead._ I saw you.” His voice rises. 

“Gabe—” 

“You’re  _dead!_ Haven’t you put me through enough already? And now you have the  _fucking_ gall to wear his face and prance in here like I don’t know your fucking tricks!” 

“No—” 

“Get out! Get the  _fuck_ out!” The pain in his side is growing and the ghost is stepping toward him, saying something, but he can’t make it out. The ghost reaches toward him and the man raises his arms to resist, but he can already feel himself weakening. He feels the ghost’s touch on his shoulders, and his eyes slip shut. 

“Gabe! _”_

But darkness enroaches on his mind, encasing it like a cool fog, and he knows no more.  

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! feedback (positive or negative) is always welcome!


End file.
